


REFUSED, RETURN TO SENDER

by chamilet



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamilet/pseuds/chamilet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Jack had not died, what might have happened when Ennis sent his postcard?</p>
            </blockquote>





	REFUSED, RETURN TO SENDER

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Jack, Ennis et al belong to Annie Proulx. I'm just borrowing them for a mo'.  
> Acknowledgments: Thank you to Steve, Tracy and Joey for betaing.

It had been a long day and Ennis had nodded off in the lazy-boy he'd found down at the flea market before he'd even fixed his dinner.  He was woken up by the sound of the beer bottle he'd had in his hand landing with a thump on the floor.  It was almost midnight, but his stomach growled for attention.  He got up and heated some stew, grabbed another beer and sat down at the table.  Ennis usually got off early on Friday, but they had been shorthanded and he had promised to come back and help out after running his usual Friday errands.  He grabbed the mail he'd only had time to toss in the truck earlier and looked through it as he finished up his beer.  There it was.  A postcard.  He gave it a puzzled look.  It wasn't from Jack.  It was his postcard.  He turned it over.  In big red letters he saw "REFUSED, RETURN TO SENDER."  His blood boiled.  MEXICO.  He had told Jack, warned Jack, threatened Jack about what would happen if he came to know the things Jack had done.  And here it was, in his face.  REFUSED.

He couldn't see straight.  Couldn't think straight.  He paced back and forth, his fists clenching and unclenching.  His leg hit the table, tipping the forgotten beer bottle over and emptying its contents on the floor.  He grabbed it and threw it at the wall, gaining no satisfaction from the sound of breaking glass so he followed it with his fist.  The hole in the wood panelling and the splinters in his hand did nothing to assuage the rage and hurt either.  RETURN TO SENDER.  He grabbed a bag and tossed a few things in, grabbed his keys, emptied the coffee can of his meager savings and bolted out of the door.  He drove until first light, then stopped off at the nearest gas station to fill up and grab a few maps and redlined it down to Texas.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive had been long, but time seemed to have passed in an instant for Ennis.  Thoughts of all of their times together had kept him company for the journey.  How could Jack just give all of that up?  He thought they had meant something to one another.  He thought Jack had cared about him. Lov-- really cared about him.

The signpost up ahead let him know he was about to enter Childress.  He checked his watch.  5pm.  He didn't know anything about the combine selling business, but he guessed that Jack would still be at work, maybe getting ready to leave for the day.  As he headed down the main road he saw billboard after billboard with a fat man smiling, hat in his hand, advertising Newsome Heavy Equipment, then he saw the sign at the end of the street, bigger and brighter than anything else in the area.  The sun was starting to go down and the sign was lit up like a big old Christmas tree.

He drove down the long driveway, past what seemed to be a mile of combines in different states of repair with big SALE signs on them before pulling into the empty parking lot.  Tires squealing.  There was a light on inside the showroom.  More huge combines, only these were all shiny and new.  He saw a figure walking out to the parking lot.  Jack Fucking Twist.

"How may I help you sir?" Jack called out to the man in the truck.  "I was just closing up when I heard your truck...Ennis?"  He squinted and put his hands up to his eyes to shield them from the setting sun.  "What the hell're you doing here?"

Not the greeting he'd hoped for, but one he'd expected.  "Funny thing, Jack.  Sent you a postcard 'bout gettin' together next month.  Damn thing came back REFUSED, RETURN TO SENDER.  You know anythin' about that?"  For a moment he hoped Jack didn't.  Hoped maybe someone else had sent it back...Lureen maybe.

"Yeah, I know.  Took it back to the Post Office m'self," Jack growled.  Jack remembered the day it had arrived.  At first his heart had done the old familiar flip-flop before anger had taken over.  _I honestly can't stand this anymore, Jack._  The words echoed in his head as they had every day since they had been said.  _It's because of you, Jack, I'm like this.  I'm nothin'.  I'm nowhere_.  Every night in his dreams he had been a witness to their last day together and it tore at his heart until the hole in his heart from the pain he was causing Ennis had overtaken the ache in his heart from wanting to be together always.  It was then he had made his decision.  To do what Ennis had asked.  The next time Randall had proposed a fishing trip, Jack had taken him up on it.  Randall could tell that his heart wasn't in it, but he hadn't said anything, hadn't pushed and eventually Jack came to appreciate the easiness of being with Randall.  Randall never looked nervously over his shoulder when Jack showed up at his place whether it was just to talk or to see if he wanted to go fishing.  Randall never worried that them being together would ever be thought of as anything other than two buddies just hanging out.  Hell, Randall and he had actually even fished.  Of course, Randall had never made Jack burn with so much lust that he had to jump him every time they met.  He never ached for Randall while they were apart.  And, of course, Randall never had his heart.  That had already been given away.  And rejected.  It's pieces lay up on Brokeback somewhere.

"I did what ya' asked.  What ya' begged me to do.  I quit you.  And yet, here y'are.  What the fuck you want, Ennis?"

Ennis staggered back a little bit at the words _I quit you_.  "What Jack?  You found someone else?  Been ta Mexico again?  I told you what would happen if you did."

"No, I ain't been to Mexico again, Ennis.  Didn't need to.  Turns out, some people are man enough right here in Texas to go after what they want and they ain't afraid of what people think, neither."  Twenty years of hurt were starting to spill out and Jack didn't know how, didn't even want, to stop it.

"Thought you weren't no queer, Jack.  Now you just puttin' it out there for anyone to have a piece, huh?"  Ennis reached behind him and pulled out the pistol he'd brought, tucked into the back of his jeans.  He aimed it at Jack's heart.

Jack's eyes widened in disbelief.  "You're a piece of work, Ennis.  You gonna shoot me like some jealous whore?"

"You're mine, Jack Fuckin' Twist.  Ain't never been with no other man.  If anyone here is a whore, that'd be you."  He cocked the pistol.

"I'm yours, huh?  Sure don't feel like I'm yours, _cowboy_," there was no endearment in the name.  "Kinda feel like I'm shit stuck to the bottom of yer boot most a the time.  'Cept the few days outta the year we're together, a'course.  Then I'm yer dirty little secret.  Yer _fishin_' buddy.  Yer _huntin_' buddy.   As if you'd turn away a huntin' or fishin' buddy after he done drove 14 hours straight to be with you.  Nah, a buddy like that you'd maybe ask to stay a spell.  Rest up a bit, at least.  So's he don't kill hisself drivin' all the way back home."

Ennis' hand shook a bit at the painful, shameful memory.

"Nah, I ain't yours, but I see you feel you got a right ta run my life as yous see fit from up there in Wyomin'.  With yer little waitress.  Probably turnin' out the lights and flippin' her over and thinkin' on me.  Thinkin' that makes you less queer'n me."

Ennis' whole body was shaking now, in that painful place where anger and sorrow and hatred and fear and shame all mesh together.  He brought up his other hand to steady his aim.

"Go ahead then you sonofabitch," Jack yelled.  "Kill me 'cause you was too chickenshit to take a chance on us and I found someone else who had the balls to be true to hisself."  He ripped open his shirt and hit his fist to his chest.  "Right here, in the heart.  Won't matter none.  Cain't hurt no more'n when you asked me to leave you the fuck alone," his voice got quiet, "it'd probably be a relief."

True fear crept into Jack's eyes and he screamed, "ENNIS, NO" and began running as Ennis' shaking hands pointed the gun underneath his own chin and pulled the trigger.  Jack caught him as his body crumpled to the ground.  Tears streamed down his face and sobs wracked his body as his life's blood ran through his fingers and stained the pavement.

  
EPILOGUE

Ennis opened his eyes and tried to move.  Something was wrong.  He was numb.  At least, his left side was numb.  He tried to speak.  His throat was dry.  He licked his lips swallowed a few times and tried again.  Words wouldn't come.  The nurse practitioner on duty came in to check on his vitals and noticed he was awake.  "Hello Mr. Del Mar.  You're in the hospital."

Again he tried to speak, and again, nothing.

"Mr. Del Mar, you've had a stroke."

A stroke?  He tried to remember.  Where had he been?  In his trailer?  On the ranch?  Images swam in his brain.  _Welcome to Childress_.  _Newsome Heavy Equipment_.  _Jack Twist_.  _A gun_.  He'd gone to Texas.  He'd been numb with rage and betrayal.  Now he was just numb.

"You're paralyzed on the left side of your body and the stroke has also affected the part of your brain responsible for speech, so you're not able to talk at the moment."  She reached over to the bedside table and produced a pencil and pad of paper.  She placed the pencil in his right hand and held the pad of paper.  "I know you must have some questions."

His hand was shaky, but he managed to scribble out, "How?"

"You were brought in with a gunshot wound to the head.  Luckily the bullet didn't kill you, but it did get lodged in your brain.  The doctors operated and were able to remove it, but unfortunately you had a stroke while you were in the OR," she paused.  "I know this is a lot to take in, Mr. Del Mar.  Please know you are getting the very best of care here.  There is a man in the waiting room who has been waiting to see you.  Says he's a friend.  Would you be up to a visit?"

_Jack_.  How could he face him after what he had done?  What he had tried to do.  But his heart couldn't say no.  He scribbled, "yes."

The nurse left.  A moment later a strange bearded man entered the room.  "Ennis, you don't know me.  My name is Randall.  Jack's friend," he added by way of explanation.

Realization struck Ennis and he turned his head away.  Jack didn't want to see him anymore and had sent his new _lover_, he almost choked on the word, to tell him.

"I've been curious about you for years," Randall said softly.  "You're nothing like I imagined.  I can see what Jack saw in you though."

_Saw_.  _Past tense_.  This is it.  The end.  Ennis wished to be anywhere than here.  Unable to scream at this unwelcome invader to get the fuck out of his room.

"I figured you'd be wondering why Jack isn't here.  Figured I owed him to come and tell you since probably no one else would ever know to tell you," Randall's voice got softer and tears glistened in his eyes.  "He always told me how good a shot you were compared to him.  Ironic that this time, his aim was better than yours."

Ennis' heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped expanding.  His eyes grew wide.

"I found both of you, you know.  Thought Jack had gotten caught up with work and was coming to keep him company until he was finished," a tear dropped down his cheek.  He didn't bother to wipe it away.  "Found him laying in a pool of blood, your body in his lap.  There was so much blood...," he trailed off.  "I called 911, ran over to him.  There was a hole in his chest, blood all over your face, both of your hands on the gun.  I tried to do what you always hear about on those TV shows, put pressure on the wound...wounds," he looked briefly at Ennis, then looked away, "but I guess I was too late.  They didn't even take him to the hospital," Randall's voice was barely audible now, "just put his body in a black bag, zipped it up and he was gone.  Just thought you should know."

Ennis was screaming.  In his head, he was screaming, but as Randall nodded to him and walked out of the door all he could do was weakly pound his fist on the bed and cry silently at the fate he had created for himself.  _Jack...I swear._


End file.
